


Hollow

by your_bro_joe



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-20 20:30:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1524560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_bro_joe/pseuds/your_bro_joe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal finally has Will right where he wants him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This might become a series, it might not. I'm not sure yet. For now, enjoy the porn.

Will inhales sharply when Hannibal finally enters him; fills him, face down on the mattress, surrounded by velvet sheets and expensive antiques. He turns his face to the side, pressing a cheek into the pillow and holding his breath when Hannibal starts to move.

"You don't know how long I've wanted this, William," Hannibal says in that honeyed voice, kissing the back of Will's neck, "how long I've dreamed of this." Will stays silent but for the occasional grunt. "How hard I worked to make you realize your true nature." He runs a hand possessively down Will's side, grasping a hip for better leverage. "There were moments when I thought I'd lost you, to good intentions, or a false sense of morality--"

"Shut up," Will says through gritted teeth, shoulders tensing against Hannibal's chest. A dark chuckle rumbles through him, but Will bucks him; grabs one of Hannibal's hands and laces their fingers together. "Shut up, Dr. Lecter," he repeats, and Hannibal merely nods and presses another kiss to Will's neck.

"As you say."

The sex grows more frantic after that, Hannibal's slow, deep thrusts becoming faster and shallower. Will curses a few times from the pain mixed with the pleasure, taking deep, gasping breaths whenever Hannibal hits something in him that makes his whole body seize. His grip on Hannibal's hand tightens as he nears the edge, and Hannibal seeks to push him, whispering psychobabble Will barely hears over the sound of his own pulse in his ears, and before he knows it, he's staining the satin sheets and the velvet comforter, and he cries out, not from his orgasm, but from the shock of Hannibal biting hard into his shoulder as he comes inside him.

The rhythm of their bodies slows until Hannibal eventually slips out of him and rolls to the side, gathering Will to his chest, still clutching him from behind. He kisses Will so sweetly, unaware of the conflict of emotions playing out on the other man's face.

Will won't cry, but he does consider it. Another moment to add to his pile of regrets. Hannibal would tell him it's good; that he's living. Will only feels hollow inside.


	2. Chapter 2

"Who would you  _like_  to kill, Will?”

He answers without hesitation.

"You."

Hannibal nods, narrowing his eyes. “Anyone else?”

Will pauses, mulling it over for a moment, and then: “Killers who walk free. Killers who blame others for their crimes; who hurt the innocent for their own benefit. Monsters.” He looks at Hannibal directly with the last word, and Hannibal remembers when he had trouble looking at anything directly at all. “Who would  _you_  like to kill, Dr. Lecter?”

Hannibal wets his lips. “The disrespectful. The discourteous. The rude.”

Will laughs despite himself. “That’s all? You kill people whose only crime is bad manners, and then serve them up for dinner?”

Hannibal remains impassive. “They are the dregs; people who cannot appreciate beauty, that the world would be better off without—”

"Are you trying to justify their deaths to me, or are you trying to make yourself seem less shallow?" Will interrupts smoothly. Hannibal blinks.

"Do you think me shallow, Will?"

Will lets out a measured breath. “I’m not sure.”


	3. Chapter 3

Will’s lip curls slightly when he sets the bag down on Hannibal’s elegant dining table, and Hannibal doesn’t miss the action, or the wet _squelch_ of the paper inside the plastic. He moves to Will’s side, surreptitiously sniffing the air. A smile unfurls across his thin mouth, and Will doesn’t miss that.

"Dinner," he says flatly, and Hannibal pats him on the shoulder, like a proud father.

"Would you like to help me cook?" he asks, and Will shakes his head.

"Already done."

Will pulls out paper plates and plastic utensils, taking quiet joy in the twitch of disgust that crosses Hannibal’s face. He pulls a Tupperware from the bag, and Hannibal outright frowns when he sees that the container is leaking, into the bag and now onto his polished wood table. Quickly, he flattens the bag and lays it beneath the container before it can further stain the surface.

"My dear Will," Hannibal tuts, removing the lid and eyeing the meaty contents, "you have certainly become more intimate with your instincts," he faces the other man, brushing hair back from his forehead and grinning as Will pointedly does not make eye contact, "but I must help you hone them."


End file.
